


"Do You Love Him?" Remix

by aspiringwordsmith



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Canon Divergence, M/M, POV Michael, Pre-Relationship, alternate "do you love him" scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-11 12:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11147958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspiringwordsmith/pseuds/aspiringwordsmith
Summary: The “Do you love him?” scene, but gayer. Michael’s POV. In which Mr. Heere ain’t no fool, but he is father of the year.





	"Do You Love Him?" Remix

**Author's Note:**

> I know 0 things about weed, and this is mad tacky, so just...bear w/me. I don’t really know where I was going with this; I just felt like adding some more Drama to this iconiqué scene...when I started I had a sequel planned, but I've since forgotten how that was gonna go…so, if you'd be interested, hmu and give me ideas!
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [bloodclawspause](https://bloodclawspause.tumblr.com/), my BMC sideblog, or on my main, [preciouscauliflower](https://preciouscauliflower.tumblr.com/).

He’d hoped it would feel better, burning this stuff. He’d been just high enough when he stormed inside to grab it that he hadn’t stopped to consider whether it was a good idea. But now, watching the limited edition Magic: the Gathering card shrivel and blacken in the ashcan, it kinda just felt overdramatic.

And maybe he regretted it, just a little.

No, he couldn’t think that. He was _angry_ with Jeremy. Jeremy had been treating him like he was nothing for _months_ now. Squip or no squip, Michael couldn’t allow himself to roll over and forgive that. Jeremy was the one who’d burned everything they had. Michael was just finishing the job.

“Michael!”

The urgent voice from his lawn sent him into a bizarre sequence of movements during which he jumped, recognized Mr. Heere’s voice, tried to conceal the joint still smoldering in his hand, and made a vague attempt at doing something about the fact that he was standing there in just his boxers until he realized that Mr. Heere was, too.

“Mr. Heere!” he managed, turning to face Jeremy’s father and finally going still. “What are you doing here?”

Mr. Heere was coming up the porch steps at a jog, looking about as serious as a pantsless man could look. Michael thought for a panicked moment that he was going to chastise him for the joint (now put out in the ashcan behind him, and seriously, what could Michael even _say_ to that?), but then Mr. Heere spoke. “We need to talk about Jeremy.”

Relieved that Mr. Heere didn’t seem to notice or care about the weed, but still swirling with hurt and anger, Michael scowled. “Sorry. Jeremy and I aren’t friends anymore–”

“Do you love him?”

_Ka-thump._

_Ka-thump._

Michael felt as if his breath had left him in one great rush. What if– did Mr. Heere– no. He couldn’t know. Not when Michael himself had only come to grips with his feelings a few months ago, not when he’d worked so hard to keep them hidden. A few months ago, he’d have laughed and said yes, easy as breathing – Jeremy was his best friend, his player two. Of course he loved his best buddy. But it didn’t feel like that’s what Mr. Heere was asking. 

But Michael was angry. He was _supposed_ to be angry. Jeremy had left him behind without second thought, and it _hurt_. He’d tossed away 12 years of friendship and let this _squip_ thing rewrite his whole personality, and for what? To move up a few pegs in the bullshit high school social hierarchy? To have a shot at a girl he liked? Michael didn’t think that was worth hurting a friend.

So why did something deep inside of him still want to answer _yes_?

_Probably because it’s the truth,_  thought Michael miserably. _Probably because for all your symbolic memento-burning, you’re going to be front row for his performance, and he’s going to be brilliant, and he’s going to go to an after-party with Christine and you’re going to go home and get high and wish you’d never met him–_

His thoughts were interrupted when Mr. Heere heaved a quiet sigh and sank onto one of the wicker chairs behind him. Eyeing him warily, Michael sat next to him and stared at the splintered wood under his feet.

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and looked up to find Mr. Heere meeting his eyes, looking more determined than Michael had seen him…well, ever.

“Jeremy can be a little shit sometimes. We both know that. And…look. I know I haven’t been there for him lately. But I know my son. And this isn’t him. I can’t help feeling like…there’s something else happening here.”

Michael held his breath. Jeremy may have been acting like a class-A jerk, but Mr. Heere had always been kind to him. Besides, the man deserved the truth. “There is,” Michael said slowly. Too late to turn back now. He hurriedly explained everything, from the sketchy sales clerk at Payless to the disastrous Halloween party a few weeks ago. Mr. Heere nodded along, looking concerned but not too surprised. When Michael finished, Mr. Heere laced his fingers together, looking thoughtful.

“So he was telling the truth. That kid’s got some nerve…”

Michael blinked. “Wait, he _told_ you?”  

Mr. Heere nodded. “He knew I wouldn’t believe him. What’s the saying – the best lie is the truth told unconvincingly?”

Michael shrugged, still surprised at the risk Jeremy had taken. Unless…unless it hadn’t been a risk at all, and some part of Jeremy really _did_ want his father to know– but no. He couldn’t think that way, couldn’t keep on hoping that Jeremy wasn’t acting like an asshole of his own free will.

“So how do we help him?”

Michael sighed. “He doesn’t want to be helped. Trust me, I’ve tried. The squip was supposed to help him be cool, and it did. He’s exactly where he wants to be.”

“Well, he’s an idiot,” replied Mr. Heere matter-of-factly.

“W-what?”

Mr. Heere raised his eyebrows as if it were obvious. “I love him, but he’s an idiot. He can be rude to me all he likes, and I can write that off as normal teen angst. But to let go of someone like you? Someone he loves? He’s not in his right mind, Michael.”

Michael bit his lip, furiously quashing the flicker of hope that rose in his chest. “Jeremy doesn’t love me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” said Jeremy’s father. He shook his head, smiling softly. “The way he talks about you…” He trailed off. “I know my son,” repeated Mr. Heere simply. “And I know that you’re the best thing in his life, whether he realizes that or not.”  

Michael looked away from Mr. Heere’s painfully earnest expression. He stared at a porch light across the street, watching it blur into a bright indistinct blob as tears welled unbidden in his eyes. “But I’m not what he wants,” he said quietly.

Mr. Heere laid a hand on his shoulder again, and Michael turned to face him, blinking back tears. The older man’s gaze softened knowingly. “But you’re just what he needs.” Mr. Heere leaned forward. “I know you haven’t given up on him just yet. And-” He hesitated. “He doesn’t deserve your help,” he said slowly. “But could you help _me_? Help me give him another chance?”

The last of Michael’s anger melted into something tamer – still there, but muted for the moment. Mr. Heere was right. This wasn’t the time for grudges. Michael knew better than anyone that the squip put a lot more than their friendship at risk. And maybe – just maybe – he was willing to give Jeremy one last chance.

“Okay,” Michael decided. “Okay. There’s a Kohl’s down the street. I don’t care what kind…”


End file.
